


this sweet, sweet craving

by buckybuck (thestarsthesea)



Series: baby I could burn you down - a drabble series [2]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Mentions of Injuries, bucky being a worrywart, clint being a complete mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7279405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsthesea/pseuds/buckybuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>based off the prompt: “It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear” AU</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I didn't follow it <em>quite</em> to the T, there's only <em>one</em> asshole in their underwear, sadly :(</p>
            </blockquote>





	this sweet, sweet craving

~***~

Bucky’s spent the last four hours in the gym; running, punching, lifting a kind of ridiculous amount of weights, and he’s still not fucking tired. He’s been wired ever since the team returned from a mission. Steve was way too close to an explosion and is stuck nursing several burns, some bruises, and ringing ears. Super soldier or not, he’s gonna be out for a few days.

And Clint. _Clint._ The idiot has the self preservation instinct of a fucking _infant_ , so honestly, an op where he _doesn’t_ get hurt is a miracle. And today did _not_ include one of those miracles. 

So Clint’s nursing a sprained wrist, some severe bruising on his ribs, various cuts and bruises, and the residual effects of a displaced shoulder. All because he jumped off a fucking building, didn’t decide to tell anyone until halfway down, and had to get plucked out of the air by Iron Man; who had to fly in _way too fast_ to catch his dumb ass. And since Bucky’s not cleared for missions yet (he’s still going through the ringer to prove he’s not going to go all Winter Soldier the minute he’s on a mission) he’s always stuck in the tower watching coverage of his best friend, and… _whatever_ getting their asses kicked by the asshole of the week, when he should’ve been there to watch their backs. So yeah. Bucky’s a little… on edge.

It’s just past 2am when he finally gives up on wearing himself out, he’s contemplating asking JARVIS where Natasha is, thinking some time with her tea and quiet presence might calm him enough to sleep, but decides to head for the kitchen for some water first.

As he exits the elevator he sees that light is already spilling from the kitchen into the hallway; someone else is up then. It’s so late he can’t imagine _who_ could be up after an exhausting fight, but then again, they all have their sleepless nights.

He’s half expecting Steve, stubbornly refusing to just rest for a night, or maybe Tony, chugging down coffee, or hell, both of them being tense and ridiculous because Steve got hurt, and Tony’s a guilty asshole about everything, Steve’s a martyr, and neither of them can talk to each other.

But instead he finds Clint. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen in nothing but his stupid purple Hawkeye boxers, looking defeated and pathetic, gazing ruefully down at his bandaged wrist.

Bucky just stands in the doorway and looks for a moment. He’ll probably never get used to seeing Clint battered and blue. It’s stupid, he _knows_ what the team does, he _knows_ it’s dangerous and that Clint wouldn’t do anything else, he _knows_ that he has no right to ask anything of Clint. He knew all those things before whatever they have even started. But it still drives him crazy when he sees Clint hurt. Even mildly, like he is now. He can’t begin to imagine what it’ll be like when Clint’s seriously injured (because he _will_ get seriously injured, it’s just a matter of time), it won’t be pretty, that’s for sure.

Clint’s completely oblivious to Bucky’s presence, or maybe he just isn’t bothered, he doesn’t turn around or tense or show any indication he knows someone’s there. Bucky is still watching quietly, running his eyes over the angry bruises blooming around Clint’s right shoulder, the blue and purple adorning his ribs and even up between his shoulder blades, where Tony’s arms caught and had to grip _hard_. 

He only notices he’s clenched his hands into fists when Clint starts humming, pulling Bucky out of his distracted gaze and thoughts. He deliberately unfurls his fingers, breathing out slowly and snapping himself back to the present.

Clint continues humming tunelessly as he leans up to open a cabinet, coming back with a large bowl, setting it to the side and stopping, glancing back to the ace bandage wrapped around his left wrist and hand. He shrugs, then unclasps the end and begins to unwrap his arm. Bucky scowls, finally stepping into the kitchen. “Pretty sure I recall the doc sayin’ you should keep that wrapped for a few days.”

Clint jumps the barest bit, completely halting his movements. Bucky can just see the side of his face, his eyes are wide, brows halfway to his hairline; the definition of deer in the headlights. “Uh… I’m not?”

Bucky moves closer, coming to a stop right beside Clint and leaning his hip against the counter. He crosses his arms, setting his face into a flat stare. “That doesn’t even make sense to what I said, Clint.” Clint winces, shoulders still tense, obviously still waiting to be yelled at. Bucky sighs and uncrosses his arms, flicking Clint’s forehead with his right hand before taking the bandage from Clint’s, and gingerly holds Clint’s injured arm with his left. He begins to re-wrap, watching from the corner of his eye as Clint slowly decides to relax. “The hell are you doing, anyway?”

Clint shrugs his uninjured shoulder as Bucky finishes pulling the bandage around his hand, securing the clips in place. “Wanted cake.”

Bucky looks up, eyebrows raised. “You wanted cake.” He hasn’t let go of Clint’s hand, and Clint doesn’t seem too inclined to make him.

Clint shrugs again. “Yeah. Wanted cake, dug through the pantry, found a confetti cake mix, decided I’d make it.”

“And you needed to take off your bandage, why?”

“I gotta mix it, bro.” He throws Bucky a look like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Bucky sighs, not bothering to point out he has another hand. Or that he really doesn’t need to be mixing _anything_ right now. It’s a hopeless cause. Kinda like Clint.

Kinda like _Bucky_ when it _comes_ to Clint.

“Make you a deal; how ‘bout _you_ sit up here and look pretty,” he cocks his head towards the counter. “And _I’ll_ make your damn cake.”

Clint grins, impossibly bashful, and ducks his head. Bucky can feel his lips lifting helplessly in response. “Deal.” _Hopeless._

It takes them til past four to finish the cake. Bucky’s covered in sticky batter and icing, and Clint’s somehow managed to get some all over himself, despite Bucky not seeing him get near the bowl once. It’s sickly sweet and tastes kind of horrible, if he’s honest. But when Clint starts giggling at his disgusted face, when he pulls Bucky between his knees and abandons his own cake to gently tilt Bucky’s chin up, when he’s grinning as he pulls Bucky into a kiss, and especially when he’s licking the sugar right out of Bucky’s mouth.

Yeah, Bucky decides it pretty fuckin’ worth it.

~***~

**Author's Note:**

> :))) hi!  
> another drabble? only a few days after the first?? this might be an actual sign of the apocalypse, tbh
> 
> this one was a little harder, mostly because it's more difficult for me to put myself in Bucky's head, Clint and I are more similar, so he's a bit easier lol but I gave it a shot! and in any way I think it's pretty cute :)
> 
> official disclaimer: I don't own marvel, or buckaroo, clinton, or any familiar names and places here  
> title credit: DNCE
> 
> not officially beta'd, so mistakes are mine, and reporting any big ones would be appreciated! :)  
> <333


End file.
